Lies Between Us podcast episode #22
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?~ Friendwords author TJ showing off his best life.
Attempting to begin my life anew, I recognized the biggest challenge is overcoming the worst parts of myself. Beginning to claw my way up and out of that shitty hell, I found the need to silence the defeating voice in my head and go, just go.
Dissecting the value of friends in my life, I also share a reading from my new book Daddy Why Were You A Drug Addict: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within.
I share insightful details concerning the six foreword authors of the book, and our shared vision of trying to live a sustainable life. Please give it a listen. Please share this episode with anyone interested in tales of survival, or depression, or drug addiction, or alcoholism.
AUDIO READING:
Jellyfished
The first person I met only seconds after pulling over in Colorado for a brief unplanned hangry bird lunchbreak, unplanned because I thought to be traveling further west to Telluride, was a burly mountainbike riding dude named Paul Jankauskas, alongside his behemoth golden retriever mountain dog, Marmot. Although I found Paul to be gruff, I quickly learned he was a legitimate bespoke craftsman beyond scale, and one of Paul’s ventures was operating his minuscule but hyper-high-end bike shop in the heart of Vail’s retail village, Custom Wheel Building. Paul teased a summer session full-time bike mechanic job in front of me within minutes of our first meet-up that December, and the following Spring I was working for Paul inside his tiny ultra-cool shop.
Often my primary orientation was just stay out of Paul’s grumpy way, while spending joy-filled minutes between tasks playing with Marmot, who arrived to work with his hooman every single day. Paul’s wife Joanne was a gem of a sweetheart, and stopped by the bike shop now and then to bring Paul lunch. Marmot was such a darling boy, albeit an absolute monster…he had the biggest head I have ever seen on any retriever-type dog. I affectionately nicknamed Marmot thy darling Woolley The Mammoth.
During winters I relied on my day job working for big boss Otto at his Spruce Saddle mid-mountain restaurant for a paycheck, a complementary season ski pass, and free food when on the clock. Winter evenings I was employed at an exotic ski boot fitting shop next to Paul’s bike store, working for the masterful Don Lamson at his Boot Lab.
Come summertime I realized the need for a second job to pay bills and frankly, it had to be a foodservice job. Lacking adequate funds to feed my face at home, I was then a cook at the local Pizza Hut franchise after concluding work at Paul’s bike shop.
My sophomore year working for Paul, I had raced my mountainbike tons the year before, spending many hours behind the windshield with Dave Turner and Mike Kloser carpooling to mountainbike events all over the state. But two months earlier at my most recent race, I broke my collarbone. Still waffling on turning pro although I was beating multiple card-carrying professionals every weekend, I struggled somedays to keep pointing forward with my racing aspirations beyond expert class, and lately struggled slightly to even maintain my mood. Coming off my broken collarbone I was trying to rally my front facing mojo and get back on the road with Dave and Mike. I found the endeavor of racing and the potential it held for me was perhaps the only at-time thing capable of saving me from my most vicious inescapable enemy.
I was trying, I was really trying to stand taller than my pain, stand taller than my fears, stand taller than all inside that held me back from my best capable life, but that shit was hard AF to face and reside over. I was trying to commit to a new life, a sustainable life, and I began to see the truth clearly that only such chance danced around in front of me by way of the bike. I was trying, but it was hard as fuck to even begin to believe that me myself was worth the goddamn effort...
